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Ci)Hfl?IGHr DEPOSIT. 



THE PRAYER BEAUTIFUL 



Other Books by 
Anna Jane Granniss 



SKIPPED STITCHES. Verses. 
Contains the two songs, The Old 
Red Cradle; Resting in the Old 
Arm Chair. Cloth, 16mo, 50 cts. 

SANDWORT. Verses. Illustrated 
with Author's Home and scenes 
from Nature. Cloth, 16mo, 50 
cents. 

SPEEDWELL. Verses. Cloth, 
16mo. 50 cents. (Portrait Ed. of 
these books combined, $1.25.) 

A CHRISTMAS SNOWFLAKE. 
An illustrated rhyme for chil- 
dren. Cloth, 16mo, 50 cents. 

THE BOY WITH THE HOE. 
Poem. 25 cents. 

THE STAR CHART AND CARD 
SYSTEM. For use in Sunday 
Schools. Undenominational, 15 
cents. 

THE PRAYER BEAUTIFUL. 
Verses of Faith and Nature. 
Illustrated. $1.00. 



The Bookstore 
East Northfield, Massachusetts 




The Recording Angel 



From the lifted eyes looked a iyleading soul- 
'' Oh, give me to ivrite, the best!'' 



See page 12 



The Prayer Beautiful 

AND OTHER VERSE 



By 

ANNA JANE GRANNISS 



Illustrated 



Drawings by Alfred Hepworth 



THE BOOKSTORE 
EAST NORTHFIELD, MASS. 






Copyright, 1916 
Anna Janb Granniss 



All rights reserved 



Press of E. L. Hildreth & Co. 

Brattleboro, Vermont 

1916 


AUG 16 1916 


©CU437229 


7t e> / 



Inscribed to my Friends in the Dark Hour 
N^ OF the World, Nineteen Hundred 

AND Sixteen. 

Dear friends, draw near! Bring your 
true hearts 

Closer to mine, and let me share 
The gladness of my growing faith 

In God, and in the power of prayer. 

Through all these silent years of mine, 
I have been proving God does care; 

Now satisfied, my gladdened soul 
Mounts upward into clearer air. 

Earth's darkest hour comes on apace — 
Though shudd'ring kingdoms reel 
and fall. 

What has this weakest child to fear. 
Whose Father works behind it all ? 

Nations may strive — air-crafts pursue 
Till heaven departs e'en as a scroll; 

There is no possible device 
Whereby to overtake my soul. 

And poised aloft on wings of Faith, 
My chastened spirit comprehends 

God holds the Universe as close. 
As I, the circle of my friends. 

The Two Wings, 
Plainville, Conn., 
May, 1916. 



The bird has its wings 
Lighteth it ever so low — 
Let the reed bend and blow — 

The bird has its wings; 

Exulting it springs^ 
It mounts up and sings — 
Ah, the bird has its wings I 

The soul has its faith 
Sinketh it ever so low — 
Let the old supports go; 

The soul has its faith; 

It catches new breath. 
It soars beyond death — 
Ah, the soul has its faith! 



ILLUSTRATIONS 

The Recording Angel frontispiece^ 

Louisa Granniss (author's mother) at 83 . . . 17 
Where the Violets Went to Church .... 25 

Where the Wood Road Leads 41 

The Old Home 57 



CONTENTS 

The Prayer Beautiful 7 

The Little White Chamber over the Hall ... 10 

Better Than Gold 11 

The Snow Angel 12 

The Joy of Being Sinless 13 

The Two Gardens 14 

Day Lilies 16 

To My Mother in Heaven 17 

I Will Be Glad 21 

Shepherd of All the Straying 23 

Wood Violets at Church 25 

June is June 27 

A Friend Lives on in His Books 29 

Lift Higher StiU 30 

From the Same Cup 32 

My Heart's Holiday 34 

To a Phebe 36 

My Father's Axe 37 

The Flowers Have Come 40 

Where the Wood Road Leads 41 

Early Leaves in a Late Snow 42 

March 43 

Missions 44 

Yield a Little 45 

In His Stead 46 



^ Contents 

Come into the Sunshine 48 

The Unacknowledged Guest 50 

My Convoy 52 

A Tragedy 53 

An Easter Thought 54 

The Lesson of the Oak 54 

The Violet on the Street 56 

An Old Home Revisited 57 

The FaU of the Lilies 59 

Satisfy Thyself in Me 60 

The Captain Knew 61 

The Dream of Roses 62 

The Dream of Peace 63 

As by Fire 65 

The Forfeited Wage 66 

The Soul's Fear-Cry 68 

After the Stress 69 



THE PRAYER BEAUTIFUL 



The Prayer Beautiful 



THE PRAYER BEAUTIFUL 

AS my loved mother at the close of day- 
Began to teach her little ones to pray, 
Teach us, dear Elder Brother, how to say 
The Prayer Beautiful which Thou hast given 
To offer, "Our Father which art in heaven," 

Give us the contrite heart; the humble tone 
Which will not rudely j ar against the throne ; 
Teach us those reverent accents of Thine own 
As when, for Thy disciples. Thou didst frame 
With lips so sinless: '* Hallowed be Thy name." 

The kingdoms of the earth cannot endure — 

Nothing abides which is not wholly pure ; 

But we would build our faith on something sure— 

Our souls cry out for an abiding home; 

We want to say in truth, "Thy kingdom come.' 

Dear Elder Brother, join Thy voice divine, 

Lest we should falter now, as we resign 

Our wayward wills entirely unto Thine — 

O Christ of God, the Father's only Son, 

Teach us, like Thee to say, "Thy will he done.' 

The world will never help us — few are just; 
Some seem to serve Thee only when they must; 
None intercedes, dear Brother, as Thou dost — 
Teach us that spirit-service Thou hast given. 
To do Thy will "In earth as it is in heaven." 



8 The Prayer Beautiful 

The famine in the land is very sore ; 

Our souls are lean, and yet door after door 

Denies us food till we can fast no more — 

Oh, lead us back, dear Brother, to be fed; 

We pray, "Give us this day our daily bread/* 

We each do bear a burden on our heart; 

And none can lift for us the smallest part, 

For all are burdened, and none has the art 

To cancel obligations with regrets — 

Give us compassion, ''And forgive us our debts." 

Behold our wounded spirits as we bring 

The wrong which rankles, and the words that 

sting; 
We do forgive while to Thy hand we cling — 
Withdraw our hearts from pride's unyielding fet- 
ters; 
Then we can say, ''As we forgive our debtors.'* 

We know Thou didst for thirty years and three 
Live in the flesh of our humanity 
Tempted and tried — so even now are we — 
Wilt Thou, as Captain of a free salvation. 
Lead us? "And lead us not into temptation.** 

The world is weaving chains with which to bind 
Our heart's affections, and alas, we find 
We have no strength of purpose, nor of mind — 
We lose ourselves; in Thee we find retrieval; 
Oh, wait not, "But deliver us from evil!*' 



The Prayer Beautiful 9 

We build our little empires where we seek 

To rule each other — nay, we are not meek; 

We're self-exalted, yet we are so weak! 

Teach us humility against that hour; 

Yea, "jPor Thine is the kingdom and the power/* 

The rulers of the earth rule for a day; 
Their splendors gather rust and fall away; 
The sceptered hand yields surely to decay; 
There is no luster on our own life-story 
Unless we share Thy passion, *'And the glory." 

And when the light fails here, if there can be 
Some work of ours which seemeth unto Thee 
Worthy completion in Eternity, 
Oh, let us sit within the Light which never 
Fails nor fades, and work for Thee "Forever/* 

We thank Thee, blessed Jesus, we can say 
Thy Prayer Beautiful with Thee to-day! 
Yet, should we falter sometimes, as we pray. 
Do Thou, as mothers do, begin again. 
And say it with us to the last "Amen" I 



10 The Little White Chamber 



THE LITTLE WHITE CHAMBER OVER 
THE HALL 

AWEE white chamber over the hall 
With a window toward the west; 
Red roses clamber along the wall. 
And by times, they seem to lift and fall, 
As though childish fingers pink and small. 
Were plucking at those loved best. 

In this wee white room no more at night 

Is the tiny bed turned down; 
But on the wall in the western light. 
There is framed a little girl in white. 
And her blue eyes seem to laugh outright 

Through her tumbled curls of brown. 

Day after day, when the sun hangs low 

And red in the western sky, 
A sorrowful woman climbs the stair. 
And goes to that silent chamber there, 
And sits alone in the rocking chair. 

For an empty lullaby. 

And then she lifts from their resting place — 

So tenderly, one by one — 
A child's small garments of mull and lace; 
She holds them close to her sad white face, 
Then lays them back in their tiny case, 

And weeps in the setting sun. 



Better Than Gold 11 

Out in the world there are childish feet 

With no mother's hand to guide; 
And oh, the dangers such children meet! 
How can they always keep pure and sweet. 
If they find no sure and safe retreat 

Where a little child may bide? 

O silent chambers over the hall 

With your smooth unrumpled bed ! 
The little ones pictured on your wall, 
How they try to beckon, strive to call. 
To plead for these others weak and small. 
That they sleep here in their stead! 



BETTER THAN GOLD 

GOOD friends are better than fine gold ! 
I find it sweet as I grow old 
To prove in you this happy truth 
To which I held in early youth. 
And having proved shall ever hold: 
Good friends are better than fine gold ! 



The Snow Angel 



THE SNOW ANGEL 



O 



N a cold, cold night of the olden time, 
At a place where three ways meet. 
Stopped an old Old Year and in hoary rime 
Lay down in his winding sheet. 



When the New Year looked from Wantastiquet 

Behold, in the morning light 
There stood at the place where the three ways met 

An angel of dazzling white. 

One glistening hand held a snowy scroll. 

The other a pen at rest; 
From the lifted eyes looked a pleading soul — 

"Oh, give me to write, the best \" 

To-day in the place where the three ways meet 

A fountain of water plays. 
And to-day in the Church* across the street 

A recording angel stays. 

The angel of snow which the boy had wrought 
Dissolved ere the world had known; 

While the man, the soul of the angel caught 
And gave to the world in stone. 



*The Unitarian Church of Brattleboro, Vt. It is to the 
Committee of this Church the author is indebted for the use of 
the figure of the Recording Angel, the latest work of Larkin G. 
Mead, who, as a youth, on the last night of the year 1856, 
formed the Angel of Snow in the place where now stands the 
Wells Fountain. 



The Joy of Being Sinless 13 



THE JOY OF BEING SINLESS 

OH^ the j oy of being sinless ! 
This the joy of heaven will be; 
No more struggle, no more failure — 
Free from sin, forever free. 

Oh, the joy of sometime walking 
With no burden pressing sore; 
With no sense of guilt or weakness — 
Free from sin forevermore. 

Oh, the joy of sometime standing 
Radiant at my Saviour's side; 
In the fullness of His presence. 
Every longing satisfied. 

Oh, the joy of sometime waking 
Something like Him, where He is; 
Making one among the chosen 
Known forevermore as His. 

Oh, the joy of living, loving! 
Heart with heart in sweet accord, 
In a harmony unbroken — 
One forever with the Lord! 



IJ/, The Two Gardens 



I 



THE TWO GARDENS 



NTO Eden's Garden of pure delight 
The serpent crept — 
Over the earth fell the pall of night — 
Creation wept. 



A pang thrilled through the Infant World; 

A tainted breath 
Stole in where flower and fern lay curled, 

And touched with death. 

By all things living, doom was spelled — 

Naught was exempt, 
When the hiss of that subtle serpent held 

God in contempt. 

Out from the Garden of pure delight, 

A sword of flame 
Drave forth the guilty in sullied white. 

And crimson shame. 

The serpent crawled after, in subtle slime. 

To fang each heel; 
Till out of the Godhead in full of time 

Came the repeal. 



The Two Gardens 15 



II 

To the Garden of Olives in anguish sore, 

The Saviour went; 
By the mighty weight of the sin He bore, 

His soul was rent. 

Even the Father withdrew His face — 

That battle grim 
Must be fought alone, in that secret place. 

And fought by Him. 

Forth from that Garden with sword and 
stave. 

They drave Him then; 
To be Sin was His only way to save 

The souls of men. 

Up Calvary's hill with His cross He toiled — 

Creation quailed — 
That day, the serpent's power was foiled — 

Christ had prevailed. 

They hung Him there — they sealed His 
tomb; 

Bound hands and feet; 
But He came forth and revoked the doom — 

His victory complete. 



16 Day Lilies 



DAY LILIES 

OD gathers His lilies when He will; 
But those which remain pure white 
May only bloom in the earthly fields, 
Just from morning until night. 



G 



He would never dare to leave them here 

To the dangers of the dark, 
Lest the evil things that fly by night. 

Should leave some sullying mark. 

So the sweet day lilies wait for Him, 

And after the sun is set 
He comes, and He gently carries them 

Where no flower has faded yet. 

Then, dear mothers, do not sadly grieve 
When you find your flowers less ; 

By such tender hands they have been borne 
To the fields of blessedness ! 

And you know your lilies-of-a-day 
Will never be touched with blight — 

Whatever may come to those you keep. 
These, are kept for you, pure white. 




Author'' s mother at eighty-three 
Louisa Granniss 
1821-1913 



To My Mother in Heaven 17 



TO MY MOTHER IN HEAVEN 

"In my Father's house are many mansions: if it 
were not so, I would have told you. I go to pre- 
pare a place for you." John IJf.: 2. 



WHICH one of aU those mansions fair 
Is now your home, I do not know; 
Nor if its shining windows bear 
An outlook on our world below; 

But it is sweet indeed to rest 
In my belief that you were known 
In those glad regions of the blest — 
Were met, and welcomed by your own, 

To that long since prepared place. 
Which Jesus promised there should be — 
Dear mother, have you seen His face ? 
And will He shortly call for me? 

He did not leave me comfortless; 
The Comforter He promised came — 
IVe yielded Him my life to bless 
Such as I may, in His sweet name. 



18 To My Mother in Heaven 

II 

Dear mother, has your memory kept 
That little dark-eyed alien child 
Who wept one day because you wept. 
And smiled again, because you smiled? 

The dear Lord laid it on my heart 
To wrestle much for her in prayer; 
That she might choose the reaper's part. 
And for that blessed work prepare. 

If it be yours to minister 

To souls on earth, salvation's heirs, 

O mother, minister to her. 

And win an answer to my prayers; 

That she may heed her Master's call 
To labor in His harvest field ; 
That she may, consecrating all. 
Be for His service signed and sealed. 



Ill 

The precious Book you left to me 
Is dearer than them all beside ; 
The Book of childhood memory 
Is now my counselor and guide. 

So patiently its truths you told 
To my unfolding childish mind ; 
Now, in its pages worn and old 
My way to heaven and you I find. 



To My Mother in Heaven 19 

IV 

The little home you lately left 
I long to make a Bethel-Rest; 
Where tempted ones, and those bereft 
May gather strength to be their best. 

Beneath the shelter of its wings. 
Some sin-sick soul might haply stay. 
To learn somewhat of heavenly things. 
Then go rejoicing on its way. 

V 

I do not know which mansion fair 
Is now your happy dwelling place, 
But I believe it is somewhere 
Within the shining of His face. 

Trust me, dear mother, here below 

My blest inheritance to prove; 

I keep the altar fire aglow 

With Faith, and Hope, and yearning Love. 




The Two Wings 



To My Mother in Heaven 
* * * 4fr * 

VI 
Withdrawn 

A Power reached down and drew her up ; 

That's what it is — 
The eyes which do not answer mine, 

Are meeting His. 

And He, the Lord she loved so well, 

So holds that gaze, 
It cannot be drawn back again 

To earthly ways. 

The ears now closed to mortal words 

Of praise or cheer. 
Are 'raptured now with that "Well done !' 

They longed to hear. 

The lips which do not meet my own 

In quick return. 
Are wearing smiles which even I 

Would fail to earn. 

The hands, unwearied, find at last 

Their glad employ; 
The feet, unhindered, go their way 

From joy to joy. 

Christ keeps His promise to His own; 

That's what it is — 
No separation after all 

Since I am His. 



I Will Be Glad 



I WILL BE GLAD 

1WILL learn to be glad in the life that is mine ! 
Even when my own soul passes under eclipse, 
I'll rejoice in the sun, and the stars as they 
shine ; 
I will praise our Creator with glad grateful lips. 

I will learn to be glad — I'll forbid my own heart 
E'en to brood the complaints which I never give 

tongue — 
Out of doors one small dajflTy is doing its part; 
In the eaves the Lord's sparrows are feeding their 

young. 

Shall I let that lone daffy from out the cold sod 
Miss the welcome from me it has right to expect? 
Shall I let it unnoticed look up to its God, 
In a silent appeal for my slight and neglect ? 

I'll be glad for that daffy — I'll make it my boast 
Just to tell of its color, its courage and grace — 
The one sole brave survivor of that golden host. 
Which, but only last spring, lighted up the whole 
place. 

Shall I let the Lord's sparrows build here in the 

eaves. 
Without learning more fully to trust in His care } 
Shall my soul cease to joy in the good it receives. 
Just for dread of the ills which it may have to bear ? 



n I Will Be Glad 

111 be glad for these sparrows that twitter and 

build ; 
Life to them is as sweet as my own is to me — 
If my Father takes note when their voices are 

stilled. 
Then no evil can harm me, which He does not see. 

While I wait for the inflowing tide of new strength. 
Shall I fold my weak hands and do nothing but 

sigh ? 
There's a tree out of doors, which is dead half its 

length, 
And its heart is laid bare to the storms that pass by. 

Yet that poor dying tree is not wholly aggrieved. 
Although blossom and bee never visit it more; 
Because since the last time that it blossomed and 

leaved, 
A dear, white-breasted nuthatch has lived at its 

core. 

I'll be glad for that tree in its time of decay. 
That a little bird chooses its heart for a nest ; 
It may be as the leaves of my life fall away. 
There will come to my heart some sweet thing for 
its guest. 

I will learn to be glad in the Lord's humble 

things — 
I will cease to be moved by the things which annoy ; 
And some day my glad spirit will find itself wings, 
Which will bear me away to the fulness of joy. 



Shepherd of All the Straying 2S 



SHEPHERD OF ALL THE STRAYING 



O 



SHEPHERD of all the straying, 

I want to be gathered in ; 
For I fear these fields of freedom — 
They are tracked and trailed with sin. 



I want to be fed, and folded 
Where the others rest in peace ; 

Where the sound of world-wolves baying 
In my frightened ears will cease. 

Good Shepherd, come out and seek me ! 

I'm a sheep not hard to find — 
On the far side of the pasture 

Is where I strayed behind. 

I heard Thee gently calling. 

And I saw the others go; 
But I'd spied some pleasant herbage 

And wanted to taste it so! 

But a foe unseen lay hidden — 

I was hurt before I knew ; 
Instead of the tender herbage 

I'm bitten, — and hungry too. 

Dear Shepherd of all the straying, 

I am such a sorry sheep ! 
So tired of my own vain bleating — 

I want to feel safe — and sleep. 



Shepherd of All the Straying 

I'm afraid of sounds around me; 

I'm lame, and the way is rough; 
And unless you come and find me, 

I'm a lost sheep sure enough. 

Leave the flock for a little moment, 
Good Shepherd of all that stray. 

And seek this silly, heedless sheep 
Which chose for itself to-day. 

O Shepherd, I am so weary ! 

I want to be gathered in 
And folded by Thee forever. 

Afar from the fields of sin ! 



Wood Violets at Church 26 



WOOD VIOLETS AT CHURCH 

HALF hidden in the shelter of a fern 
They stood — shy^ silent^ wondering and 
awed; 
The pale wood violets in their crystal urn. 
Close to the altar in the House of God. 

The place was strange — no sunbeams 'round them 

played ; 
They felt alone — no woodsy thing came near; 
And when the great bell tolled they grew afraid. 
And whispered timidly, "Why are we here?" 

A gentle breeze breathed softly through the fern, 

"Bide quietly awhile and you will know I" 

And as they waited patiently to learn. 

The people came with reverent steps, and slow. 

The great bell ceased, and all the place grew 

still— 
With bended heads the congregation stood; 
The violets felt the meaning with a thrill — 
"They worship Him whose Presence fills our 

wood \" 

''Holy, holy, holy. Lord God Almighty" — 
Into the stillness stole that solemn bar; 
The violets gave assent inaudibly — 
"They're praising Him whose fragrant breath we 
are!" 



26 Wood Violets at Church 

The preacher read the sacred Word, and prayed. 
And with his people paid the morning vow ; 
The violets no longer felt afraid; 
'Twas all of Him who taught their heads to bow. 

And when to notes of gratitude and faith 
The people paid their tribute full and free, 
The violets exhaled their sweetest breath. 
And gave to Him who gave them power to be. 

The sermon done, a shower of needed rain 
Darkened the skies till all the church grew dim; 
Then there arose the glad triumphant strain 
Of adoration breathed in that old hymn: 

**0 worship the King all glorious above. 
And gratefully sing His wonderful love; 
Our Shield and Defender, the Ancient of Days, 
Pavilioned in splendor, and girded with praise. 

''His bountiful care what tongue can recite f 
It breathes in the air, it shines in the light; 
It streams from the hills, it descends to the plain. 
And sweetly distills in the dew and the rain." 

And when at last the benediction fell 
Upon the waiting people as they stood. 
The violets shared a peace they could not tell — 
'Twas like His "H-u-s-h!" at nightfall in their 
wood. 



1 



s 



June is June ^7 



JUNE IS JUNE 

UNBEAMS dancing over, under; 
Trees aleaf, and flowers abloom — 
What cares any heart, I wonder, 
Now, for all the winter's gloom ? 



Such sweet hopes, and hidden treasures. 
Do the cool green coverts hold ; 

In the joy of June's full measures 
Who remembers years grow old? 

See ! the wind across the meadows 

Sets the daisies all ablow; 
Running after flying shadows, 

That the scudding cloud-caps throw. 

Why, the buttercups are tipping 

Over all the morning dew ! 
A pair of butterflies in sipping. 

Do not find enough for two. 

Saucy Wind ! now do be quiet ; 

Let the wee things break their fast ; 
Just as they begin to try it. 

Then you must come rushing past. 

Now it's off across the clover; 

But the careful clovers know 
How to cheat the vagrant rover — 

Hold their sweets, and let it blow. 



June is June 

Butterflies and bees assembling. 
Hang and sip till satisfied — 

Clovers, clovers, all a-trembling, 
Have you one cell left untried? 

Here's a moth that lies a-dying. 
For a sip of nectar sweet ; 

On a daisy's heart it's lying; 
Two white petals at its feet. 

All night long it goes a-dancing. 
Till the morning flower-bells ring; 

And last night a firefly glancing. 
Singed its pretty velvet wing. 

"What care I for such vain fancies ?" 
Someone says, whose love of gain. 

Every power of mind entrances, 
While the summers wax and wane. 

June is June, for all September's 
Greed to turn its green to gold — 

Blest is he who scarce remembers 
Other years have all grown old ! 



A Friend Lives on in His Books 



A FRIEND LIVES ON IN HIS BOOKS 

WHEN you sit in a muse with your books 
on their shelf, 
And so long for the friend whom the years 
have removed, 
Just remember there's nothing so much like himself 
As a book he has written or one he has loved. 

If you sigh for the sound of his voice as of old, 
Go and take down the book which he read to you 

there ; 
Find the place where he paused, while he earnestly 

told 
How this passage exalted his soul like a prayer. 

Do you long for the answering light of his eye. 
When your efforts are crowned with success in your 

art? 
Just read over the book which he gave with 

"Good bye!" 
And the look of his eyes will come back to your 

heart. 

Do you long for companionship ? Go to the shelf 
Where his books still remain, tho' your friend be 

removed. 
And remember there's nothing so much like himself, 
As the books he has written, or those he has loved. 



so Lift Higher Still 



LIFT HIGHER STILL 

"And you hath he quickened, who were dead in 
trespasses and sins; wherein in time past ye 
walked according to the course of this world, 
according to the prince of the power of the air, 
the spirit that now ruorketh in the children of dis- j 
obedience.'* Ephesians 2: 1, 2. I 

THE dear Lord Jesus lifted me 
From my despair and misery; 
He lifted me to higher ground — 
But, ah, the Powers of the air, 
Like evil birds they found me there. 
I heard them circle me around, 
And shuddered at the grewsome sound; 
The flapping of a dusky wing 
Took from me all the heart to sing; 
The eager croaking of their voice 
Stifled each impulse to rejoice — 
I knew they did not mean to fly. 
But waited for my faith to die; 
If doubt and fear could make me dumb, 
I knew the downward swoop would come. 
And so, with my whole soul afraid, 
I lifted up my voice and prayed. 

"O dear Lord Jesus, lift me still 
Beyond these winged Powers of ill; 
These subtle Powers that soar to kill — 



Lift Higher Still ^^ 

Lift up, where evil birds of prey 
Wait not to catch my soul away-— 
Beyond earth's highest snow-capped hill. 
Beyond the summit of my will, 
Into that heavenly atmosphere. 
Where one sure Refuge stands out clear. 
Lift me, Lord Jesus, higher still. 
Until my heart expand and fill 
With Thine own Spirit's vital breath ; 
Till my poor fainting, frightened faith 
Expires in love that knows no death." 



From the Same Cup 



FROM THE SAME CUP 

ONCE again^ in this sorrow which now comes 
to you, 
Christ accounts you as worthy to follow 
Him through 
That hour, when in anguish of spirit He prayed 
To His Father, and asked if the cup might be 

stayed — 
Try to thank Him, dear heart, as your lips touch 

the brim. 
For thus letting you drink from the same cup with 
Him. 

O the nearness of Christ! Close, close to the brim. 
With one who can drink from the same cup with 
Him! 

By the way of the cup, which He chooses to fill, 
You are being led into the Father's own will — 
By your sorrow and pain, unto you it is given 
To find Him in the way which leads surest to 

heaven. 
He is leading you on to partake of His best. 
In first proving you His by an unfailing test. 

the nearness of Christ! Close, close to the brim. 
With one who can drink from the same cup with 
Him! 



1 

1 



From the Same Cup SS 

Be no longer afraid, neither troubled of heart. 
When called into the Garden a little apart — 
Let the gay world go by, its false glory will dim; 
He has chosen you from it to suffer with Him; 
And if chosen to suffer — Oh, infinite gain ! 
He has chosen you also to share in His reign. 

the nearness of Christ! Close, close to the brim. 
With one who can drink from the same cup with 
Him ! 



34, My Heart's Holiday 



MY HEART'S HOLIDAY 

To My Heart 

POOR old troubled heart of mine! 
Beating on through shade and shine; 
Beating for me all these years, 
Through my pain, and toil, and tears; 

You have earned a recompense; 
So before I journey hence. 
And before you rest for aye. 
Choose yourself a holiday. 

Suddenly I seem to see 
All the dull monotony ; 
Beating on without a rest 
In a selfish woman's breast. 

While she makes her selfish claims, 
And pursues her selfish aims — 
Now, my heart, just have your way — 
Speak ! I hasten to obey. 



My Heart to Me 

Bend your slow reluctant feet 
Into that grief-stricken street; 
Lend your hands to that mean task 
Someone needs but dares not ask. 



My Heart's Holiday S5 

Go and bid to join your feast 
Those accounted as the least; 
Rest not till you clasp and hold 
Halt, and blind, and maimed, and old. 

When each impulse good and sweet. 
You perform with hands and feet; 
When I prompt, and you obey. 
Then, I have my holiday ! 



36 To a Phebe 



TO A PHEBE 



Phkbe Almkda Holcomb 
The faithful friend and companion of many ivinters 



I 



'VE had a royal summer guest! 
Sir Baity Oriole — 
He came in gay flame-colored vest. 
And sang with all his soul. 



The sparrow's sharp persistent cry 
Sounds all day from the eaves; 

And other happy birds flit by 
And sing among the leaves. 

The robins come just when they please 

And look about the lawn ; 
They've held delightful matinees 

All summer, just at dawn. 

Sometimes a catbird's rhapsody 

Bursts out upon the ear; 
And I, for that fine minstrelsy. 

Drop everything to hear. 

And yet, sometimes I'm deaf and blind 
To all these birds of grace. 

Because, alas ! I cannot find 
A Phebe on the place. 



My Father's Axe 



S7 



MY FATHER'S AXE 




My remembrance of my father 
is but shadowy and 
dim, 

When I seek his rugged fea- 
tures to lovingly re- 
caU; 

But I have an humble keepsake 
which more plainly 
speaks of him 

Than could any painted por- 
trait left me here 
upon the wall. 

Of the things my heart holds 
dearest, time and 
change are making 
spoil ; 
Year by year I find my treasures growing pitifully 

less; 
But there is one rude memento, honest implement 

of toil. 
Which through all life's varied changes I rejoice 
to still possess. 

For the axe my father wielded in his early man- 
hood's prime 

Keeps its old accustomed corner in the safety of 
the shed — 

E'en the axe my father wielded in the happy olden 
time. 

Ay, the axe which earned my shelter, with my 
porridge and my bread. 



38 My Father's Axe 

I have always loved the upland, when clothed white 

with winter snow; 
Loved the strange mysterious silence of the deep 

untrodden wood. 
Where the winds, with muffled voices, seemed to 

whisper soft and low 
Things the woodman and his children have believed 

they understood. 

Oh, those far-ofF winter mornings, when the snow 

slept on the hill ! 
With the good axe newly sharpened for the labor 

of the day. 
There was music in the ringing of its swift strokes, 

keen and shrill. 
When I knew the arm that swung it was my strong 

support and stay. 

With a woman's understanding, as I read in later 

times. 
Of dishonor found in places of high confidence and 

trust ; 
Of embezzlements, and intrigues, and a host of 

kindred crimes. 
Which have brought the proud and haughty to 

their judgment in the dust; 

When I see the snares and pitfalls in the higher 

walks of life; 
When I see the fearful prices, such as men will 

dare to pay 
To secure the badge of victor in a most unholy 

strife, 
Making forfeit of the future, for the gain of gold 

to-day ; 



My Father's Axe 89 

It is then that I can glory in my father's humble 

worth ; 
In his principles and precepts, and his tireless 

industry — 
It is as his loyal daughter I rejoice in lowly birth, 
And the sense of obligation, which he handed down 

to me. 

Some may find their pride and pleasure in their 

ancestry and gold; 
In rare legacies, and heirlooms, on their pedestals 

enthroned ; 
But the legacy I cherish is the memory I hold 
Of my father's honest labor, and the good old axe 

he owned. 



Jfi The Flowers Have Come 



THE FLOWERS HAVE COME 

OH, joy! go tell the keepers; 
Go swiftly, wake the sleepers; 
The flowers have come! 
Send heralds to the cities — 
Why, 'tis a thousand pities 
For men to toil and grind, 
When trooping down the wind 
The spring flowers come ! 

Shut down the marts and mills; 

Close up the clinking tills ; 
Bring out the sad to see 
How glad the world can be 
With violets blowing free ! 

Lead out the blind to smell them; 

Shout to the deaf, and tell them 
The flowers have come ! 

Oh, has the world gone dumb? 
Shout, somebody, shout — 
"The flowers are out!" 




Where the Wood Road Leads 



Where the Wood Road Leads J^l 



WHERE THE WOOD ROAD LEADS 

ALONG the old wood road I went, 
Where generations of dead leaves 
Had brought about that wild event 
Which Nature silently achieves. 
When left to work her own sweet will, 
Transmuting each year's green to gold 
Till richer yet, and richer still 
She works the magic in the mold ; 
When lo ! the wonder comes to pass — 
These myriad varieties 
Growing on either side en masse. 
Making the wood road what it is; 
Sweet refuge where the hunted Soul 
May as a bird flee for its life, 
Lest it should know the base control 
Of Greed, and Power, and sordid Strife; 

For this same wood road leads away 
Into the forest solitude 
Where even the glad light of day 
Comes reverentially subdued — 
Ah, it was worship to stand there 
And hear that thrush hymn to its God ; 
In that clean, consecrated air 
Where human foot but rarely trod ! 
'Twas adoration to stand still 
And offer up pure gratitude ; 
To feel the being slowly fill 
With waking impulses of good ! 



Early Leaves in a Late Snow 

Back by the old wood road I came 
To where life's battle front is ranged, 
And took my place — Life was the same, 
But all my thoughts of Life were changed. 



EARLY LEAVES IN A LATE SNOW 



Y 



OU poor little leaves, do not shiver so; 
Don't be afraid of the soft white snow! 



The bluebirds have come ; they are not afraid — 
See ! they face the weather quite undismayed. 

Ah, there is one waiting under the eaves, 
And thinking of you, perhaps, little leaves. 

The mother-boughs know that the snow feels cold 
To wee baby leaves only two days old. 

It will all come right ; yes, the old boughs know 
That you came too early, and they'll rock slow. 



March 4^ 



MARCH 

I'VE seen March like this before- 
Come a-whispering to the door. 
Looking docile as a lamb; 
But it's all a cunning sham; 
For a look of mischief lies 
In her blue half-open eyes; 
And when she and April meet, 
She'll blow April off her feet — 
She will toss her high and dry. 
Chase her half across the sky ; 
But with April's sudden tears, 
March, the tricksy, disappears — 
Ah, I tell you mischief lies 
In these blue half-open eyes ! 



J^. Missions 



MISSIONS 

MY ear grows keener for the farther cry. 
Because I note the near; 
Because I see the urgent need close by. 
My vision grows so clear 
That I can see those far-ofF faces plain, 
Searching for mine to-day, in helpless pain. 

Because these little stumbling feet I find 

Seeking a guide in me. 
Those other feet, my heart aches to unbind 

And set forever free, 
That they, with these, may run until they meet 
And stand together at their Saviour's feet. 

Because these little reaching hands I mark 

And clasp within my palm, 
Those other fingers, feeling through the dark, 

Keep tugging at my arm 
Until one seems not far, the other near. 
But both as one — immeasurably dear. 



Yield a Little 4^ 



YIELD A LITTLE 

lELD a little to a brother! 

Sometimes yielding is a grace; 
If it smooths life for another, 
Yield a point with smiling face. 



Y 



Yield a little of your Pleasure ! 

Pleasures pall enjoyed alone — 
Filling someone's scanty measure 

Fills and overflows your own. 

Yield your Way— if it be better, 
Prove it by the yielding test; 

It will leave someone your debtor 
When he finds your way is best. 

Yield your Comfort to some other 
Whom but few have thought to please- 

Find your comfort in the brother 
Whose sad load you help to ease. 

Yield a little of your Leisure ! 

Toil ; that other hands may rest ; 
Sharing something of your treasure 

With the most unwelcome guest. 

Yield your Rights ? Yes, yield a little— 
But of Honor, Truth, and Faith, 

One iota, jot, or tittle 

Yield not, yield not until death. 



^6 In His Stead 



IN HIS STEAD 

THE day wears on, and yet there is no sign 
That He will come — no radiance divine 
Streams in to tell me that my Lord is near; 
Naught but the waning sun is shining here. 

I was not certain He would come to-day. 
But I have put some useless things away; 
I've looked and listened just a little more, 
And been a little oftener to the door; 

Because last night, I was so crushed with care 
I sent to Him a hurried word of prayer 
For needed help, and that close comforting 
Which if He came, I knew that He would bring. 

I told Him in that moment of despair 
The days were bringing more than I could bear — 
And so I thought might be He'd come to-day 
And either take my cares, or me, away. 

At noon a child came in with wistful eyes 
And wanted comforting — he'd lost a prize — 
He soon went glad and smiling from my door; 
But he was just a child whose heart was sore. 

Then later in the day came one in years 
And told her griefs to me with many tears ; 
She seemed a little stronger afterward. 
And took, by faith, fresh hold upon her Lord. 



In His Stead ^.7 

But now the day is wearing to an end, 

And still no sign of Him, my heavenly Friend — 

I wonder if He meant that I should see 

His face in theirs — these two which came to me. 

I wonder if He could have sent, instead, 
Childhood and Age here to be comforted: 
And if the bit of comfort which I gave 
Might really be the comfort which I crave. 

I wonder if my Lord would have me see. 
That in His stead. He chose to send to me 
Life's two extremes, wherein He had ordained 
Faith should be born, and failing Faith sustained. 



JIfS Come into the Sunshine 



COME INTO THE SUNSHINE 

RE you getting your share of sunshine, 
All the dear Lord meant you to ? 
Are you being warmed by sunny rays, 
He is sending down to you? 



A 



Or, are you hiding behind the trees 

Which your own dark fears have made 

A gloomy wood, where disconsolate 
You sit all the day in shade? 

Let the wholesome wind blow back the leaves- 
Just see how the hilltops shine ! 

There's a whole sky full of love and light. 
And some must be yours and mine. 

Come out and enjoy the blessed sun; 

The world will have none the less 
Because you take of its warmth and light. 

And sit in its blessedness. 

Your love is chilled by the dismal wood; 

Your sympathies have not grown; 
They cannot grow in a human heart 

Which thinks of itself alone. 

Yes, I know the light hurts aching eyes. 

That weep in the dark too long. 
But the light that hurts will also heal, 

And the sight will grow clear and strong. 



Come into the Sunshine Jfi 

Strong enough to see forgotten tasks 

Still waiting for you to do; 
There are sure to be some little things 

None can do so well as you. 

Some tender grace you alone possess; 

Some gift which is all your own. 
Is hidden now by the selfish leaves 

Which your brooding fears have grown. 

Come into the sunshine, and be glad! 

Health is in each sunny ray; 
O Soul, from under your cypress trees 

Come out into open day ! 



60 The Unacknowledged Guest 



THE UNACKNOWLEDGED GUEST 



I 



THOUGHT I knew my Lord too well 

To feel confusion or affright; 
Had He not deigned with me to dwell? 
Was I not precious in His sight? 



Ah, yes; indeed I knew my Lord; 

I knew the care He could bestow; 
I'd proved Him faithful to His word; 

It was myself I did not know. 

For when I tried to speak His name, 
My own voice sounded strange to me; 

And I was overwhelmed with shame, 
That such embarrassment should be. 

I'd known Him in the secret place, 
Where He my faintest cry attends, 

But I had failed the Christian grace. 
To introduce Him to my friends. 

I'd kept Him for myself alone; 

My inmost chamber was His shrine; 
I had not sought to make Him known; 

I was content that He was mine. 

Sometimes, alas, I went the way 

My vain ambitious thought inclined^ 

And found at close of every day 
The patient Guest I'd left behind. 



The Unacknowledged Guest 51 

But now, henceforth, and evermore, 

I only go where He can come; 
We pass together through the door. 

Or we together stay at home. 

What other friend had brooked such wrong. 
The shame of being unconfessed? 

Who but my Lord had borne so long 
To be an unacknowledged Guest? 



S2 My Convoy 



MY CONVOY 

A STRANGER met me at the gate- 
He laid his hand upon my arm; 
My tired heart ceased to palpitate. 
My very thoughts grew still and calm. 

I loved him for his quiet ways; 
His deep-set eyes looked kind and good; 
I thought, "I wonder where he stays?" 
I would detain him if I could; 

For with him standing by my side, 
I do not think I should so fear 
That foe from whom I cannot hide, 
Who soon or late will find me here. 

He saw the shadow on my brow, 
And marked my fear in voice and eye. 
He questioned, and I told him how. 
How much afraid I was to die. 

He murmured, "Ah, she does not know !" 
Then with a slow sweet smile, he said, 
"Poor Soul, to think you've suffered so, 
And I am he you so much dread V 

I did not even try to speak, 

But thrilled with swift and sweet surprise; 

He laid his fingers on my cheek. 

He kissed the lids down on my eyes; 



A Tragedy 53 



Then held me very close and still; 
And as I drew my latest breath, 
A sudden glory topped the hill — 
And I had been afraid of death ! 



A TRAGEDY 

'*y^^H, for the life of a bird!" I said; 
i f "Nothing to do but to sing and fly; 
Sure to be nested, feathered, and fed, 
Somewhere under the shimmering sky !" 

I said my say with a foolish tongue. 
For I traced the flight of one poor bird. 
And the last sweet song it ever sung. 
Was even the song I had just heard. 

For while it sang, with its happy throat 
Swelling with love for its brooding mate. 
It had been marked by its sweet love-note. 
And my cry of warning came too late. 



54 An Easter Thought 



AN EASTER THOUGHT 

MAKE haste to those in bonds ! 
Tell them the young fern fronds 
Are bursting from the sod 
Into the light of God. 
There is no power to hold 
In dungeon^ crypt, or mold; 
No strength in prison walls to stay 
The soul from bursting into day. 



THE LESSON OF THE OAK 

1TOOK a long stroll yesterday, 
To seek a spot my childhood knew- 
A spot laid bare to sun and dew, 
With sweet wild roses by the way. 

Some gypsies camping in the lane. 
Peered out at me with curious eyes; 
Strange children of the open skies. 

Such freedom, how do they obtain .f^ 

The place had seemed so much my own, 
I felt a throb of quick surprise — 
My winding lane — my bending skies. 

To these dark aliens were they known .f* 



The Lesson of the Oak 56 

Whose are the by-lanes, and the skies, 
O most ungracious heart of mine? 
Can they who joy in shade and shine 

Be aliens, where suns set and rise? 

That tiny sapling down the way. 

Whose slender stem I once had spanned. 
Had grown in girth, till I could stand 

Within its shadow, yesterday. 

Its trunk was seamed throughout its length ; 

Its boughs were rough and tempest-tost ; 

Its supple smoothness had been lost 
In gaining symmetry and strength. 

And why should I the more regret 
These many marks of time I wear? 
Nay — rather joy, that they declare 

Life's storms and tempests have been met ! 

Beneath the strong oak's lengthened shade. 
The wayworn turn aside to rest; 
Then grateful go upon their quest. 

Until the final halt is made. 

Would that my sympathies extend 
Around my life a shade so sweet. 
That burdened hearts, and weary feet. 

Might come to seek me as their friend. 



66 The Violet on the Street 



S 



THE VIOLET ON THE STREET 

INCE yesterday I'm burdened with regret, 
For that, with all my haste, I did not stay 
And gently lift that fallen violet 

Someone had dropped, or worse, had thrown 
away. 



Face down I found it on the public street — 
Was it for this it raised its lovely head? 

Was it for this, that in its lone retreat 

That fragrance like none other had been shed ? 

How sweet it would have been to fade and die. 
Caressed and sung to by the winsome wind! 

To yield its native breath, and by-and-by 

To shed its last pale petal with its kind. 

Mine would have been slight service, even so 

To raise it gently from the world's highway; 

I could have taken time for that, but no, 

I left it there, face downward where it lay. 

And now I evermore must feel regret. 

Because for all my haste I did not stay. 

And lift again that fallen violet; 

To think — I might have done so yesterday. 



An Old Home Revisited 57 

AN OLD HOME REVISITED 

In Reverie 

\0 the sunlit vale of my early youth 

I turned my thoughts in the dewy morn; 
And in mind I came to the place in truth. 
And entered the house where I was born. 

As I stood in the long deserted hall 
A throng of memories met me there ; 

They gazed at me from the vacant wall, 
And called to me from the creaking stair. 

They knelt with me at the cold hearth side 
Where the gay flames danced in other days ; 

They mingled their voices with mine and cried, 
Holding pale hands to the vanished blaze. 

In the open chamber which once was mine, 
The sun still shone on the same old beams; 

But oh, heart of mine, how it used to shine. 
On the splendid castles of our dreams ! 

Oh, what have I been that I hoped to be? 

What have I done that I thought to do? 
Return, O ye youthful days, to me — 

Those early pledges I would make true ! 

My glimpse of the world through a window given 
Was rainbow-hued in that far-oiF time; 

Then, my own "Blue Hills" reached up to heaven. 
And I was eager and longed to climb. 



58 An Old Home Revisited 

From the crimson dawn to the sweet day's close, 
Still God through Nature is calling me, 

As all through the ages He calls to those 
Who have ears to hear, and eyes to see. 

And when my spirit, as one who sings. 
Thrills in response, I believe and know 

I am being led to heavenly things. 

Which have their beginnings here below. 

And believing this, shall I cry "alack!" 
For the unsung melodies of youth.?' 

Shall I bid the years of my toil turn back. 
The years so rich in their love and truth? 

No! the voices heard as a little child. 

Nor toil, nor the World's rude tones have stilled ; 

Life's conflicting claims must be reconciled; 
Its highest purpose will be fulfilled. 



I 



The Fall of the Lilies 59 



THE FALL OF THE LILIES 

N the flush of early morning 

Just after the first bird-call, 
I looked at my golden lilies 
Just in time to see them fall. 



The reaper had entered early. 

And his stroke was swift and sure; 

Nor spared he a golden lily 

Just because its heart was pure. 

Prostrate one and all together 
Bowed they down before the sun; 

And swathed with the common grasses 
They died as the grass had done. 

The buds that had never blossomed 
They were leveled with the rest; 

Cut down ere the best within them 
Could be yielded or expressed. 

And what the benignant purpose 
Which must hide behind it all, 

What it means to golden lilies. 
Or to kingdoms when they fall; 

'Tis He of the endless ages 
Who sees them arise, then die. 

Whose Hand upholds the universe. 
Knows the Wherefore, and the Why. 



Satisfy Thyself in Me 



SATISFY THYSELF IN ME 

MAKE me, dear Lord, a power for good ! 
Let Thy instructions be my food; 
Thy gracious love on me distil 
Till I rejoice to do Thy will. 

Give me a voice with which to praise 
And glorify Thee all my days; 
Give me a heart to beat with love 
For Thee all other things above. 

Give me a strong, intense desire 
To work for Thee, and never tire; 
May I increasingly delight 
To toil with no reward in sight. 

Give me a sympathy so vast. 

Its cooling shadow may be cast 

Where burning hearts, incensed with wrong, 

May learn forbearance, and grow strong. 

Give me a choice to ever move 
Within the circle of Thy love ; 
Revolving near, and held in place. 
By the attraction of Thy grace. 

Give me to live a life of faith. 
Then in the mystery of death. 
Take me, dear Lord, and let me be 
A satisfaction unto Thee. 



The Captain Knew 61 



THE CAPTAIN KNEW 

\0 battle called, I'm in the ranks 
To wage a war with Sin — 
"Speak, Lord, and tell me where Ye would 
That my hand should strike in !" 

"Bind first the traitor in thy heart ; 

He else will take thy sword. 
And leave thee at the battle's height 

A victim of the horde !" 

"There is no traitor in my heart, 

For, Lord, my heart is Thine ; 
And none can take my sword from me, 

My hand is fast in Thine !" 

"Then strike !" And with my hand in His, 

The blow was aimed and sent — 
None but the Captain and myself 

Knew what that blow had meant. 



The Dream of Roses 



THE DREAM OF ROSES 

O SISTER, in yon heavenly land! 
Our lower world is white with snow; 
The fields lie waste on every hand, 
And wintry winds arise and blow. 

And yet last night, I know not why, 
I dreamed of roses all night long; 
Whithersoe'er I turned my eye 
They met me like a fragrant throng. 

I never knew them grow so high, 

Or trail the ground with such wild grace ; 

In distance they outran my eye. 

And yet so close they brushed my face. 

I gathered all my hands could hold; 
I drank their perfume as my right ; 
I tucked them in my garment's fold, 
And smuggled them in sheer delight. 

I crowned myself like any child ; 
Choosing the reddest for my hair — 
It seemed the whole creation smiled, 
And there were roses everywhere. 

Straight from my dream, I woke to find 
A tempest raging in its might — 
Dear sister, what possessed my mind 
To dream of roses such a night ? 



The Dream of Peace 63 



THE DREAM OF PEACE 

O SISTER, long in Paradise! 
Our lower world is dark with woe ; 
The tears are drowning out my eyes, 
Because of souls that suffer so. 

And yet I've lately dreamed of peace — 
I know not what that dream may mean 
Wherein I felt life's tumult cease, 
And all about me grow serene. 

I stretched myself like one who wakes 
To some unwonted sense of ease; 
Or one upon whose conscience breaks 
The prelude to new melodies. 

I seemed to see without surprise. 
The forms of those I once had known; 
And confidently set my eyes 
To seek out those who were my own. 

I thought of you, whose presence here 
I've been so long a time denied; 
My very thought had brought you near. 
And you stood smiling by my side. 

Then there is one I've learned to love 
Since last I looked upon your face; 
Younger by many years remove, 
And brought to me by heaven's grace. 



64- The Dream of Peace 

While wondering if she too were there, 
Behold, she stood but just apart; 
Pleased that she took me unaware. 
She read the gladness in my heart. 

Her smile was that of yesterday- 
Made sweeter, as she said to me: 
"You see I followed all the way 
And found you in Eternity I" 

"Come I" and she gently led me where 
A little group of children played — 
"Just see !" said she, "how sweet and fair. 
And these are they which might have strayed !' 

"The Master let me lead them here — 
These children of my native race; 
I taught them love in place of fear. 
And told them of this happy place." 

And as we neared the little band. 
They heard her voice and left their play 
To gather 'round her hand in hand — 
She smiled, then seemed to glide away. 

Straight from my dream I woke to hear 
The anguished moans of Want and Pain; 
I heard my name called loud and clear. 
And I took up my life again. 



As by Fire 65 

Dear sister, was that strange sweet dream 
Prophetic of approaching rest? 
Or did I catch that heavenly gleam 
To give my labors added zest ? 

That I might wage a war with sin, 
And battle for the swift release 
Of souls who find it hard to win 
An entrance to that Place of Peace? 



AS BY FIRE 

IF out of this that tries me so. 
If from the anguish and the woe, 
There should be born my heart within, 
A deeper loathing for all sin, 
A more absorbing wish to win 
A standing place near to the side 
Of Him who once was crucified. 
Then would I j oy in being tried ! 



The Forfeited Wage 



THE FORFEITED WAGE 

THE TOILER 

MASTER, behold me ! the day is done; 
I've toiled clear up to the set of sun — 
Over the furrows I've bowed and bent; 
I've followed fast where the reapers went; 
I've fetched and carried; been called, and sent — 
Now with weary hands and garments rent, 
At the close of day I stand and wait 
For the hard-earned wage which comes so late! 

THE MASTER 

Mistaken Toiler for Time and Sense, 

So you have come for your recompense ! 

Have you naught received throughout the day? 

Whence came your strength for the toilsome way? 

You tell how faithfully you have striv'n, 

Who will tell of service you have giv'n? 

Show me the altar you stopped to raise 

Whereon to offer your prayer and praise? 

Did ever you leave your task undone 

To bind a sheaf for some fainting one? 

Have you turned aside from chosen ways 

To light upon some cold hearth, a blaze? 

What splendid plan have you put away 

To seek for one who had gone astray? 

What earnest purpose did you forego 

To bear the burden of one bent low? 



The Forfeited Wage 67 

THE TOILER 

Good Master, none! I have toiled all through; 

When skies were dark, and when skies were blue; 

Both late and early — from sun to sun, 

And left the wage till the day is done; 

Left the full day's wage untouched with you — 

THE MASTER 

Toiler, alas, there is nothing due ! 

When a Soul is in account with me. 

If the records for Eternity 

Show but how steadily one has striv'n 

To win the wage, and has nothing giv'n. 

That Toiler forfeits his wage from heav'n ! 

THE TOILER 

gracious Master ! the sun has set ; 
But there is an hour of twilight yet; 
Let me start a new account, I pray. 

And toil till dark without thought of pay — 
I'll hasten back to that stony place 
Where one was toiling with pallid face; 

1 will bind his sheaf, and lift his load. 
And sing to cheer him upon the road ; 
Or, if others need me, I will stay 
Till I hear your Voice call me away. 



68 The Soul's Fear-Cry 



THE SOUL'S FEAR-CRY 

GREAT heart of God, admit me— I am cold ! 
The world's rude ways unfit me for Thy 
fold— 
My heart is bleating like an unweaned lamb 
Left to itself — forgotten of its dam. 

I hear the cry of wolves upon my track! 

They scent my weakness; naught will turn them 

back; 
Benumbed with fear; no shelt'ring fold in sight; 
No light — no voice — only the shudd'ring night. 

I have not strength enough to fight or flee — 
It's just the wilderness; the wolves; and me — 
Baying they come — Sorrow, and Pain, — and Sin? 
Open, great heart of God, and take me in ! 



After the Stress 



AFTER THE STRESS 

1KNEW a spot something like this 
Was waiting somewhere in God's green, 
For I had caught the breath of flowers 
Whose colors I had never seen. 

I always thought that I should win 
Sometime, a nearer, clearer view, 
And always hoped it would be in 
Close company, dear friend, with you. 

I wonder by what way you came? 
I must have missed the road you took; 
But in my heart I wore your name. 
Now, in each other's face we look. 

I feared I should arrive too soon. 
Urged on by that impelling wind; 
I did not hear the stroke of noon. 
And thought you would be hours behind. 

Yet here you meet me as of old; 
Your hand as warm, as strong, as true — 
Was there a moment's dark, and cold.^ 
It has not left its mark on you ! 

Let's yield to our new blessedness ! 

Your road was steep, and mine was rough — 

Done with the buffet, and the stress ; 

At last the Voice has said "Enough !" 



'TO After the Stress 

Here grow the flowers, whose breath I drank 
With eager wonder yesterday — 
We stand together on the bank 
Which I had thought so far away. 

I do not know j ust where we are ; 
I only know we both have striven; 
It may be some unnamed star — 
Or, do you think it may be — Heaven? 



